


Sorcerer

by Emachinescat



Series: Sesquipedalian [18]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:19:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emachinescat/pseuds/Emachinescat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>vindicate, v.<br/>(VEN-di-keyt)<br/>Clear someone of blame or suspicion; show or prove to be right, reasonable, or justified</p><p>verisimilitude, n.<br/>(ver-UH-si-MIL-i-tood)<br/>Something, as an assertion, having merely the appearance of being true</p><p>Veritas, n.<br/>(verr-EAT-us)<br/>Latin; "truth"</p><p>vengeance, n.<br/>(vinn-JINCE)<br/>The return of an injury for an injury, in punishment or retribution,; an avenging; revenge</p><p>vociferous, adj.<br/>(voh-SIF-er-UHS)<br/>Characterized by vehemence, clamor, or noisiness</p><p>Merlin is sentenced to death for sorcery, and Arthur is determined to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't own; for entertainment purposes only. 
> 
> Enjoy. :)

Merlin was in the process of making Arthur's bed when the guards burst into the prince's room. There was no warning, no polite knock, not even an apology as six heavily armed guards barreled into the prince's chambers. Merlin stared before snorting softly and going back to his work – Arthur (who, at the moment, was looking more than a little annoyed as he stood up from where he had been seated at his table, eating his breakfast) – shouldn't ever get onto him for barging in without knocking ever again after this.

The prince stood, his eyes narrowed and took a step forward. " _What_ ," he said none-too-patiently to the small group of his father's loyal men, none of whom he knew by name, "are you  _doing?_ "

Merlin's eyes shifted from the bed, his hands absentmindedly smoothing out the bedcovers as a tingling feeling trickled down his spine. Something was not right.

"Stand back, sire," one of the guards said, "he's dangerous."

Arthur's face crinkled in a mixture of confusion and irritation. Merlin stiffened, noticing several pairs of the guards' eyes on him and silently praying to whoever was listening that this was  _not_  what he thought it was. "Who's dangerous?" Arthur snapped, clearly growing tired of this. "There's no one else in this rooms besides you, myself, and  _Mer_ lin, and, well, it's  _obviously_ not Merlin, he's too much of a  _girl_  to be a threat to anyone."

He said this in Merlin's direction, his voice teasing to let Merlin know he wasn't serious – or not  _completely_  serious, anyway – but Merlin barely noticed. He was too busy watching the guards begin to circle around him. He noticed for the first time that that there was rope in one of their hands and he began to back away.

Arthur, too, saw this and he growled again, this time with more force, " _What_  are you  _doing?_ "

"He's deceiving you, sire," the guard said, glaring at Merlin like he was nothing but a spot of dirt beneath his shoe. "He's a sorcerer!"

Merlin didn't even have a chance to see Arthur's response. The guards were on him. Merlin didn't fight back, didn't struggle as they yanked his lanky arms behind his back and bound his wrists with layer upon layer of rope. Someone grabbed the scruff of his jacket and pushed him forward. There were hands all over him, on his shoulders and arms, pushing him, holding him, preventing him from trying to escape despite the fact that Merlin wasn't trying to escape at all.

He was herded through the hallway by the guards. He could hear Arthur's voice from somewhere behind him but couldn't quite make out what the prince was saying over the din in his own mind. He didn't know if Arthur was trying to defend him or encouraging the guards to get on with the arrest. He found he didn't care at the moment. His mind was spinning and his stomach was twisted in knots. Uther had found out…  _How_  had Uther found out?

As he was pulled through the corridors toward the throne room, surrounded by guards and hands tied tightly behind his back, he felt the eyes of passing servants and even a few knights on him. He knew it must be strange, seeing Prince Arthur's idiotic manservant being dragged to through the castle like a common criminal. Almost as soon as the weight of their gazes landed on him, however, they looked away. Merlin wondered briefly why this was, but then they arrived at the throne room and all other thought was swept from his mind.

* * *

Arthur followed right behind the guards, his mind reeling. He saw the way that passing people would gawk at the prisoner being marched to the king, and made sure to glare ferociously at every busybody that dared to make a spectacle out of the "sorcerer." But that was ridiculous, anyway. There was no way that  _Merlin_  was a sorcerer!

Why on earth his father would think such a thing was beyond him, but considering the number of guards that had been sent to arrest him and the fact that Merlin's hands were tied so tightly that his hands were already white from the constriction to blood flow to them meant that these men were serious – which meant that his father was dead serious. They really thought that Merlin was a sorcerer. Arthur's throat was dry. He knew what that meant. It meant that Merlin was going to be sentenced to death.

 _But what if he really_ is  _a sorcerer?_

The idea caught Arthur off-guard. He supposed it was a valid question that his subconscious had formulated, but it was not one he particularly wanted to entertain. The idea of Merlin with magic seemed absolutely ludicrous – but then again there always  _had_ been something odd about Merlin, something that Arthur hadn't quite been able to figure out even after three years of the young man as his servant. His own words from the first day they had met sprang into his mind.

_"There's something about you, Merlin… I can't quite put my finger on it."_

Could it be that Merlin really  _did_  have magic? Arthur forced the idea out of his mind. If Merlin was really a sorcerer, Arthur honestly still couldn't see himself standing by as Merlin was burned at the stake or beheaded. The images made Arthur shudder.

Surely this was all a mistake. But there was one thing he knew for sure – he had been Merlin's master for three years; the boy was loyal to a fault, always ready and willing to put others in front of his own life. If Merlin was evil, then the world just wouldn't make sense anymore. Why would someone evil, someone with magic, be so self-sacrificing, so true, so intensely loyal to his prince and friends? No, if magic was evil, then Merlin surely wasn't a sorcerer. His father was wrong – hopefully he would be able to persuade the king to see reason.

He didn't have further time to contemplate this any further, however, as they had reached the throne room. Arthur's stomach tightened in anticipation and fear for his frie— _servant_ as the doors to the throne room were opened and the guards shoved Merlin inside none-too-gently. Arthur's face was stoic even as he was internally panicking, trying desperately to think of any way to get Merlin out of this situation. He was also seething at the callous way his servant was manhandled, shoved to the floor so hard that his knees made a resounding 'crack!' as they hit the stone floor.

Merlin was kneeling in front of the king, hands bound, eyes terrified, and Arthur could barely stand the sight. Merlin looked so vulnerable, so scared – there was no way he was a sorcerer. Surely, if he had magic, he would be using it to attempt to escape right now; he wouldn't just be on the floor looking defeated.

Arthur's fists clenched at his sides as he saw the slumped position of Merlin's back, the fear and resignation in his face. He stood to the side, his eyes roving over the council, noting that most of them looked fierce and angry. A few looked skeptical. Gaius's eyes were full of worry and sadness. Arthur couldn't bring himself to meet the old man's eyes. Gwen stood with the servants, her eyes wide and terrified, filled with tears. Arthur couldn't bear to see her so upset. He swallowed thickly and looked away.

He moved his gaze to Morgana, who sat by Uther's side, and thought that he saw the tug of a triumphant smirk on her lips, a bitter, exultant look at Merlin's arrest… but then it was gone and her face was a mask again and Arthur couldn't help but wonder if he had imagined the whole thing. He forgot about the dark gleam in Morgana's eyes a second later, though, as he caught sight of the pure hatred and anger on his father's face as the king glowered at the prisoner kneeling before him. The king looked positively murderous.

Before Uther could speak, Arthur spoke, "Father, there has been a mistake."

"Silence, Arthur," the king spat in a tone that was usually saved for criminals. Arthur almost took a step back at the harshness in his father's tone and words. "Do not defend this sorcerer, I have learned from a very reliable source that  _Merlin_ ," he spat the name like it was a Questing Beast's venom, "is plotting to kill you with his dark, corrupted magic."

"That's ridiculous," Arthur growled. "This is  _Mer_ lin we're talking about here, father – the same man, if you remember, who has stood by me loyally for three years, gone to fight a dragon with me, and who  _drank poison_  for me! If he has been trying to kill me, he's even more incompetent than I already thought!"

From where he was standing across from Merlin and near his father, Arthur could see a small grin tug at Merlin's lips despite the circumstances.

A few in the court looked at bit unsettled by the reminder of Merlin's loyalty as they glanced at the boy who knelt there docilely as his fate was determined. Could there be some truth in what the prince said? Why  _would_  an evil sorcerer willingly drink poison for the person they were supposed to be out to murder?

Uther noticed and his expression was harder as he ground out, "It is not my job to try and decipher the twisted workings of the minds of  _sorcerers_. He was probably trying to gain your trust to get close to you."

Arthur gaped. "He's been 'close' to me for three years, Father – he's my servant, he's near me almost all the time! Why would—"

"That's  _enough_!" Uther raged as he turned on Merlin, who was still kneeling there, face pale as he watched father and son. "A person of great trust has informed me that she caught wind of his plot and witnessed him trying to enchant you. For that, he will pay."

"Who?" Arthur demanded, his eyes roving around the room. For some reason, Morgana avoided his gaze. "And Merlin has  _never_ tried to enchant me!"

"And you would know if you had been enchanted, would you?" Uther glowered. "The bearer of this information has requested to remain anonymous as they expected such a ridiculous reaction from you, although I hoped they were wrong."

"Father, you've got this all wrong; there's no way that Merlin is a sorcerer."

Uther ignored the prince and turned to Merlin, who gazed back at him, obviously trying his hardest not to appear terrified. "You have been caught using magic in Camelot, in an attempt to murder the heir to the throne."

For the first time since being taken to the king, Merlin spoke, his voice low and respectful. "Sire, I have  _never_ —"

_SMACK!_

Arthur felt his blood run cold as Uther brought his hand across Merlin's thin face, striking the boy so hard that his head whipped violently to the side and he toppled sideways to the ground, dazed, unable to break his fall because of his bound hands. From somewhere nearby Arthur heard Gaius protest, his voice shaking. Gwen let out a small sob, tears running down her face. Merlin lay where he had landed, a bruise already developing on the side of his face. Arthur started to take a step forward but restrained himself, knowing that if he intervened now, he would only make things worse for Merlin.

"Do not lie to me, sorcerer!" Uther fumed. "You have been a traitor, trying to get close to my son, pretending to be loyal while all the while you were plotting his death! For that, you will be severely punished." Arthur swallowed back a protest, heart pounding, knowing what his father's next words were going to be. "You, sorcerer, have broken the laws of Camelot by practicing magic and using it for high treason – you are sentenced to death. You will be burned at the stake tomorrow at noon. Take him away!"

Merlin was yanked to his feet and dragged out of the room. Arthur stood still, waiting until everyone had filed out before turning to face his father.

Merlin was  _not_ going to die because of his father's blind hatred and refusal to see reason. Merlin wasn't a sorcerer; he couldn't be! Even if he was, Arthur still couldn't imagine him being evil. He opened his mouth to speak to his father, to try and prove Merlin's innocence, but he realized he didn't know much at all. He needed more information if he was going to plead Merlin's case.

And plead it he would, he thought resolutely as he closed his mouth, on the verge of yelling at his father, and turned on his heel, striding angrily out of the throne room. He was going to prove Merlin's innocence, save his servant from the pyre, despite the consequences.

Merlin was  _not_  going to die tomorrow, Arthur decided, whether it meant Arthur convincing his father to let him go or Merlin mysteriously "escaping" into the night.

Merlin had been loyal to Arthur for three years – the time had come for Arthur to return the gesture and he would be damned if he let anyone, especially his blinded father, keep him from doing what was right. With resolve bubbling inside of him, he headed for the physician's chambers. He wanted to talk to Gaius and then Morgana… something about the look in her eyes when Merlin was brought in, although it could have just been a trick of the light…

And then he was going to go to the dungeons and speak to Merlin. He didn't know what was going on, but he did know that Merlin did  _not_  deserve to die. He also knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was going to set this right – no matter what.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gaius?"

The court physician sighed, more deflated than he could ever remember feeling, as Arthur stepped into his chambers a bit hesitantly, expression guarded – although Gaius could see a glimpse of worry in his eyes. "Arthur." Gaius knew his tone was a bit clipped but he didn't try to correct himself. He couldn't stop thinking about Merlin, bound and scared, kneeling before Uther, sentenced to death. This couldn't be happening – it just… couldn't. He'd warned Merlin time and again to be careful when using his magic. Honestly, though, Gaius couldn't think of when he could have been seen and he hadn't been allowed into the dungeon to speak with Merlin. This was a bit odd within itself; normally as physician and advisor to the king, he had no problem getting through security into the cells. This time, though, he had been told that under  _no_  circumstances was  _anyone_  other than the king and those he  _specifically_ gave clearance allowed to see the prisoner. Gaius tried to tell himself that it was because Uther knew how close he was to the boy, although somehow he feared it was more than that.

"I… I'm sorry," Arthur said slowly, surprising the old healer and causing an eyebrow to raise slightly. "About Merlin," he added. "I tried to stop the guards from taking him but you know my father's personal guard… they're like his own little army. They only listen to him, not me."

Gaius raised a wrinkled hand, weary but grateful, not really wanting to talk about this now. "It is not your fault, sire." His expression grew angry as he muttered, "Although I  _do_  place the blame on whoever it was that accused him of using magic to try and harm you, sire. I assure you that Merlin is innocent; he would never—"

"I know, Gaius. He wouldn't try to hurt me." Gaius noticed that while Arthur seemed adamant that Merlin wouldn't harm him, the prince hadn't said that Merlin wouldn't use magic. He wondered if perhaps the prince believed the accusations against his servant. Surely not; if he had, would he truly be here, apologizing for Merlin being arrested? Honestly, Gaius had no idea. "I know I can trust you, Gaius," the prince continued, and Gaius's eyes snapped to meet his. "As you can rest assured you can trust me."

"Sire?"

"I'm going to rescue Merlin, one way or another," Arthur whispered, glancing hastily over his shoulder as if half expecting an angry Uther to be standing right behind him. "But I'd rather do it within the law. If there is anything –  _anything_  – that you can tell me, to clear his name, I  _need_  to know. Because despite what my father seems to think, Merlin is  _not_  an evil sorcerer." He paused before plowing onward. "And honestly, Gaius, I don't know if what's been said is true – besides the 'evil' bit; I know that's a load of wash – and at the moment, I really don't care. Actually, I'd rather  _not_  know if Merlin truly has magic. If he doesn't, no harm done, and if he does, I'll deal with it  _after_  I've saved his sorry behind." Gaius couldn't help but feel relief at Arthur's words – they showed how much he had matured and that he wasn't just going to make a decision about Merlin based solely on his father's beliefs.

"I understand, sire."

Arthur nodded. "Is there anything you can tell me, Gaius? Anything that my father would consider feasible proof? Apparently, whoever told him this is someone highly respected and even I will need substantial proof to convince my father that Merlin has never tried to kill or enchant me."

Gaius frowned. Oh, he had a  _very_  good idea about who had told Uther but he wasn't sure how Arthur would take the news that the girl he considered a sister had caused this, if he believed it at all. True, the physician had just found relief in discovering that the prince was much more open minded than he would have dared to hope for, but when it came to family and those he considered to be family, Arthur was almost naively confident of their loyalty.

Seeing Gaius's hesitation, Arthur pounced. "You know something, don't you? Tell me, Gaius."

"Sire… I honestly don't know anything that would help clear Merlin's name."

Arthur's mouth turned down and Gaius could see that the prince didn't believe him. Gaius didn't want to make anything worse; right now Arthur had a fierce determination that was more than likely built mostly on stubbornness to help Merlin. Gaius feared, however, that if Arthur was distracted from this goal by fingers pointed at someone he cared deeply about, he would take the time to second-guess his decision to help Merlin. Gaius hoped that Arthur wanted to save Merlin because it was the right thing to do, because Merlin was his friend, but he couldn't take the chance. Still…

"I wonder, though, sire, if the Lady Morgana might know anything? She and Merlin  _are_  friends of a sort, after all. She might have seen something I missed."

Arthur nodded, expression distant as he considered talking to Morgana. "Yes, Gaius, I think I  _will_  talk to her," the prince decided, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

* * *

Arthur had been telling the truth when he had told Gaius that he didn't want to know the truth about Merlin just yet, but not just because he didn't want the extra stress to deal with. While that much was true, he just didn't know how he would react if he found out that Merlin  _did_  have magic. He'd like to think that he'd give his servant a chance to explain, that he'd at least entertain the possibility that if Merlin had magic then all magic couldn't be bad, but he just didn't know. Uncertainty plagued his mind. What if he found out that Merlin had magic and decided that he was angry at the boy for lying to him? What if the angry, magic-hating side of his mind took control and he stopped trying to help Merlin? This way, if he just pretended that nothing had happened, that Merlin didn't have magic despite the accusation and definite possibility, he could focus on rescuing the idiot now and  _then_  worry about the repercussions later. Arthur still wasn't positive why he was so determined to save Merlin, especially if he did have magic, but the thought of Merlin burning made him sick. Merlin just wasn't evil, magic or not, and Arthur just couldn't let him die.

Now, Arthur stood outside of Morgana's door, fist poised to knock. He didn't know why he was suddenly hesitant to talk to her; he had had more than his fair share of conversations with his father's ward in the past, although much less this past year after being returned home from captivity. He supposed that he could be nervous because this time he wasn't coming to her for advice or even a bit of sibling-like banter, but to question her about what had just happened in the throne room. He didn't necessarily think that she had anything to do with Merlin's arrest and death sentence but he  _had_  seen the smirk and the dark look in her green eyes as she watched the servant being thrown to the floor at Uther's feet. And when the king's hand had made harsh contact with Merlin's face – something that had shocked – and  _angered_  – the prince more than he cared to admit, Morgana had… smiled? No, that couldn't be right.

Then again, the look on Gaius's face before he had suggested that he speak to Morgana had been almost bitter, angry. Like his reasons for wanting the prince to question Morgana were not what he said – that she might have seen or heard something about the person behind this because they were friends. In actuality, although Arthur hadn't really realized it until now, looking back over the past few months, Merlin and Morgana hadn't interacted much at all. The only times he had seen them together, their exchanges were brief and seemed forced. Maybe Gaius had been implying something, something that he was afraid to voice aloud to the prince, unaware that Arthur's thoughts had been drifting, unbidden, in the very same direction since seeing that first smirk on her face when Merlin was dragged into the hall.

But…

This was Morgana, the woman who cared about everyone and every _thing_  in the whole blasted kingdom. The girl that was like a sister to him, that was not afraid to speak out against Uther and for those that she felt he oppressed – even those with  _magic_ , for crying out loud. Now that he really thought about it, most of the times Morgana had been in trouble was because she had rebuked something to do with the law about magic – the sentencing of that druid man, Alvin, or whatever his name had been; the execution of the druid boy (although Arthur had felt the killing of a mere  _boy_  to be a bit extreme himself); when Guinevere had been accused of magic… If she was so passionate about helping those that she felt oppressed,  _surely_  she wouldn't tell on Merlin if he did, by some cruel joke of life, have magic. And besides, Merlin was her  _friend_. She wouldn't just betray him… would she?

He shook his head, angry at the doubts he was having about Morgana's loyalty to her friends. Of  _course_  she wasn't happy about Merlin's situation; she was probably just putting on an act for the king so that he wouldn't punish her for voicing her opinion again. That didn't set right with the prince, either, though, because she had never seemed to care about the repercussions of telling her guardian off before. Sighing, Arthur shrugged off such thoughts, knowing that he wouldn't learn anything by standing outside of Morgana's door, arguing with himself all night. Meanwhile, Merlin was sure to be in the dungeons, under lock and key and strict watch. Arthur could only hope that he'd be left alone – he knew the guards could sometimes be a bit rough with sorcerers, especially if they were those that were loyal only to the king. Still, Merlin hadn't exactly been  _proven_  guilty, so surely Merlin would be kept relatively comfortable, despite being locked in a cold cell beneath the castle awaiting execution.

No. Merlin was  _not_  going to be killed tomorrow – Arthur had already decided that – but if he was going to find a way to (legally) get his servant out of this mess, he was going to have to find some answers. Because of Morgana's suspicious (although Arthur hated to call it that, really) behavior in the throne room, he was going to try and see if she knew anything first. Then he would go see Merlin, maybe get some answers. For now, though, he was going to talk to Morgana.

He took a deep breath and knocked.

* * *

Merlin was shoved into one of the deeper cells in the dungeons, further than he'd ever been before. His stomach twisted in a small knot as he glanced around the dark, dank room. This was obviously a place built specifically for holding people with magic. A set of chains hung from the back wall and as the guards "escorting" him forced him toward them, he realized with a wave of panic that these were not just any chains – they were made specifically for containing magic. He would have thought that with Uther's ban of everything magic, these, too, what with the runes of the Old Religion surrounding the cuffs, made to restrain magic, would have been destroyed. Then again, Uther would want to have a way of keeping control of those extremely powerful sorcerers, those that he considered a threat.

Merlin struggled as his wrists were clamped into the manacles, his back facing the empty room, his face turned to the wall. The guards strode forward, holding a larger manacle with a chain attached to it, and Merlin strained his neck away as they tried to clasp it around his throat. A blow to the back of the head stilled his struggles as he gasped, dazed, and the giant metal ring, also covered with runes, clicked shut around his throat. The short chain attached to the collar was pulled forward and hooked to a ring on the cell wall, effectively diminishing Merlin's head movement. His magic was shoved deeper inside of him, the collar repressing it.

He couldn't look around, only at the wall. He was terrified, not able to know who – if anyone – was behind him, or what they were going to do. Suddenly a hand touched his shoulder and he flinched, hating himself as he did so. He cursed himself for ever letting it come to this – but what was he supposed to have done? He hadn't known the guards were going to go  _this_ far, suffocating his magic and chaining him so securely in this bleak, dark, obscure prison cell that the warlock hadn't even known existed until now. Besides, he wasn't going to attack the king – as much as Merlin hated the man at the moment, he  _was_  Arthur's father, and Merlin just couldn't do that to his friend.

He instinctively tried to use a burst of magic, just to see if it would work, but nothing happened. Fear trembled through him and he tried to calm down, on the verge of hyperventilating. He couldn't use his magic.  _He couldn't use his magic._  Panic began to settle into his chest as he realized that he was, for once, truly helpless. He should have broken free from the guards when he had the chance, because there was  _nothing_ he could do for himself now.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Merlin wanted to turn and see who it was, but he couldn't, his neck restrained to the wall as well. As it was, he settled for glaring furiously at the slimy stone wall inches from his nose, but the wall didn't seem to care. A voice, low and dangerous, hissed in his ear. "My informant has also told me that you are not working alone – she has discovered that you plot with the witch, Morgause."

Merlin answered the king, his voice steady despite his roaring fear coming to the surface. "Sire, I haven't—"

He yelped as a whip cracked against his back. It hadn't been Uther who had hit him; the hand was still on his shoulder, the king's breath tickling his ear. Even through the material of his shirt, Merlin felt the sting of the blow. Uther spoke once more. "I want to know  _everything_  about what she is doing, what you two are planning, and how to stop her."

Merlin was filled with desperation as he realized just how far Morgana – because who else could have done this, honestly? – had gone. Wasn't it enough that she had caused him to be arrested and sentenced to death? She was going to make Uther torture him for information about Morgause, all for her petty revenge? "I can't," Merlin said calmly, his heart racing. "I don't know; I'd never ally myself with that witch."

_CRACK!_

Merlin didn't cry out this time, only shut his eyes and jerked slightly. Uther's voice was harsh. "You leave me no choice, sorcerer. It does not give me pleasure to see you suffer before your execution, but suffer you shall if you do not tell me what you know."

"I don't— aaarrrhh!"

Something warm began to trickle down Merlin's back as the whip broke through the thin fabric of his shirt and sliced at the bare flesh beneath.

"The captain of the guards will keep you company while I see to other matters," the king said, voice laced with hatred for the wizard before him. "Just let him know when you're ready to confess. Maybe we'll even be merciful and bring your execution forward to stop your agony if you cooperate." Merlin's heart was pounding faster by the second, pure and raw fear running through his veins. Why hadn't he stopped this? He tugged at the chains. He didn't want this, he didn't want this, this  _couldn't_  be happening, he had magic, he could just break free…

Nothing happened. He hadn't even realized that Uther had left, leaving his captain to do the dirty work, until the whip lashed his back again. He gritted his teeth, forcing the tears of pain back. He was helpless and he  _hated_ it. Why hadn't he escaped when he had had the chance? Now it was too late… too late…

And on top of his physical agony, Merlin couldn't help but let his thoughts drift to his "destiny". What was Arthur doing? Did he believe Uther? Did he know that the king was having Merlin tortured for information? Was he doing anything to stop it?

And then all thoughts of the prince were driven from his mind as the whip found his left shoulder, digging in and splattering flecks of blood on the wall as it did so.

He hoped Arthur was coming for him, but he had no reason to believe he was. After all, he'd been convicted of – _CRACK!_  – magic. Arthur had been raised to abhor those who used it; why should Merlin be any different? Still, he couldn't help but cling to the small hope that maybe Arthur  _would_  try to save him (if he even knew what was going on, that is), because he knew that it was the only thing that would be able to keep him going throughout the long and painful night ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

"Arthur." Morgana's voice was surprised but calm. Arthur kept his eyes trained on her face, looking for any sign of guilt. There was none. Maybe, then, she had nothing to do with this mess. Maybe she had been smiling at something else, not Merlin's predicament. Maybe… maybe, maybe, maybe. Arthur was sick of all the "what ifs" and "maybes" that were running rampant through his head, determined, he believed, to drive him crazy. He didn't want to be here, questioning the girl who was like a sister to him about whether or not she had turned in his servant for magic. No, he wanted to be on his way to rescue said servant from the dungeon, or to be talking his father out of this execution, or, better yet, waking up and finding out that this was all just one big dream. Arthur just wanted to be  _doing_  something.

He forced himself to give Morgana a grim smile and asked, "Can I come in?"

Morgana hesitated and for a moment Arthur thought she was going to say no. Then she smiled – and this smile was most  _definitely_ forced – and nodded. "Of course," she said. "Come in."

He nodded, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. He didn't look at Morgana but felt her questioning eyes on him. Was he  _really_ doing this? Questioning Morgana about what had happened? Surely he was mistaken, she wouldn't…

Then he remembered Merlin, tied up and being dragged away by the guards and he strengthened his resolve.

"I suppose you're here about Merlin," Morgana prompted, the look in her eyes unreadable as Arthur's snapped onto them, surprised.

"I, er… yes," Arthur answered, a bit awkwardly. He hadn't expected Morgana to be so to-the-point about all of this. Then again, she never had been one for mincing words.

"Well, don't bother," Morgana said in a clipped tone. "I don't know anything."

"Morgana, I'm not—"

"He's going to die, Arthur," Morgana said and something in her voice sent chills up and down Arthur's spine. Her voice was dark, her eyes hard. And then she was back to normal, so suddenly that Arthur found himself wondering if she had even spoken that way or not.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Arthur growled, determined.

"Why?" Morgana was genuinely surprised. "Arthur, you heard Uther. Merlin  _practiced magic_ , tried to  _kill_  you with it. Surely you want to see him dead, too?"

"Of course not," Arthur spat. "And he  _didn't_  use magic to try and kill me; that's just—hang on.  _Too?_  Who else wants to see Merlin dead, Morgana? Who were you talking about?"

"Your father, of course," Morgana said hastily. "As he wants to see  _all_  who practice magic destroyed." A trace of bitterness lingered in her words. Arthur felt something, a niggling of doubt, perhaps, stir in the back of his mind. Something wasn't right here…

Eyes narrowing slightly, Arthur regarded the woman that he had known for years, guilt welling up inside of him at the suspicions creeping into his mind. "Morgana," he said in a deceivingly calm tone, "what aren't you telling me?"

And just like that, the dam burst open and the truth – coupled with wild, uncontainable emotions – streamed from Morgana. All Arthur could do was stand in shock and listen to Morgana bare her soul.

* * *

_CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_

The whip sliced across his bare flesh – his shirt had been torn to shreds not long after the questioning had begun – three times, each one sending a wave of agony through Merlin's body. He didn't know how long he'd been down here, chained to the wall by his wrists and neck, being subjected to these monotonous questions and subsequent torment.

_"What are you and Morgause planning?"_

_"Nothing."_

_CRACK!_

_"Where is the witch hiding out?"_

_"I don't know."_

_CRACK!_

_"Tell us how to stop her!"_

_"I can't – I wish I could, I swear, I want her to be stopped as much as you, I – ARGH!"_

_CRACK!_

And so it had went for minutes, hours, days… no, not days. Because Uther was going to execute him at noon the next day. As the whip cracked across his skin yet again, Merlin let a sob escape his lips. He didn't know, he really didn't know… but they didn't believe him. He dreaded hearing the captain of the guard's words, feared being asked a question, because he knew what it would mean for him if he didn't answer the way his interrogator wanted him to respond.

With each labored breath, each drop of blood, a little more of Merlin's hope died. He had thought that maybe –  _maybe_  – Arthur would come for him, maybe he wouldn't believe Morgana's lies – well, half lies, really; while he  _was_  a sorcerer, he would  _never_ use his powers to harm Arthur. He'd put far too much energy into protecting the prat to do that. Even so, Merlin wondered what point there would be if Arthur didn't care enough to try and save him from this torment.

_CRACK!_

The whip made contact yet again, and Merlin cried out, no longer able to contain it. He hadn't even heard the question. Instantly, he babbled, "I d-don't kn-know… I… I…"

And then – mercifully – he lost consciousness and the last thought, the last prayer in his coherent mind was,  _Arthur… Please don't leave me here…_

Then he was gone and for the time being, the pain was put on hold.

* * *

"Yes, I was the one who told Uther that Merlin has magic," Morgana said, her voice thick with emotion. "When I found out, I  _had_  to tell him, didn't I?" Arthur opened his mouth to answer but Morgana plowed over him, her voice angry. "And so what if he dies? Why should I care? He obviously didn't when he  _poisoned_ me!"

Arthur gaped. Merlin… poisoning someone? It… it didn't make sense. How could  _Mer_ lin, stupid, idiotic, peaceful, harmless  _Merlin_  try and kill someone, especially one of his friends. "What are you talking about, Morgana?" Arthur asked, his voice hoarse."

"You should ask him yourself," Morgana spat, making no effort to disguise the hate in her voice. Arthur felt a bit ill at the sound of the sweet girl he had grown up with speaking with such malice, "although he might be hard pressed to answer."

Suddenly, Arthur's mouth went dry with fear even as a small part of his mind tried to tell him that he should  _not_  be worrying about someone, especially a magical servant, who had tried to kill Morgana. But somehow, Arthur couldn't hate Merlin. At least, not yet. He needed to know more, not just Morgana's side of the story. But the way Morgana's eyes had gleamed when she'd said that Merlin probably wouldn't be able to answer struck a chord of fear in his chest.

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't you know?" Morgana asked in a sickeningly sweet, oh-so-false tone that frightened Arthur more than he'd care to admit. He couldn't believe how much she  _despised_  Merlin and even more surprising was that she had managed to hide her loathing for so long. "Your father is under the impression that he is working with the witch, Morgause." Arthur felt the blood drain from his face.

"What?"

"Uther is having your servant 'questioned' by the captain of the guards as we speak." Arthur's heart thudded uncomfortably fast and loud. The captain was known to be  _brutal_ , able to extract answers from almost anyone.

Without another word, ignoring the part of him that said Merlin was a traitor and a murderer, Arthur spun on his heel and dashed for the dungeon. He  _had_  to stop this. He didn't know if what Morgana said was or was not true, but he couldn't just stand by and let his father torture Merlin, especially for something that he  _knew_  couldn't be true. Merlin wasn't evil, he wouldn't work with Morgause.  _But he poisoned Morgana…_  No, he didn't know that.  _But what if he did…?_  Then… then he had had a good reason…  _What 'good' reason could there possibly be for killing a friend?_

"Shut up," Arthur muttered to the little voice of doubt that continued to nag at him. "Not Merlin…"

He simply had to glare at the guards and they all but leapt out of his way as he strode purposefully for the dungeon. He bypassed all the initial cells, knowing that Merlin wouldn't be there if he was being interrogated. Stomach doing flip-flops, Arthur pelted around a corner and skidded to a stop in front of the cell that most of the prisoners' screams emanated from. He gaped, eyes wide, stomach churning, and couldn't believe the scene laid out before him.

"Merlin?" he said, almost tentatively.

Merlin didn't answer.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur couldn't believe his eyes. His stomach curled and his head spun as he took in the scene before him. There was only one way he could think to describe the terrible vision –  _red._  There was blood everywhere, or so it seemed – on Merlin's exposed back, his shirt ripped to shreds by the bloody, leather whip that was leaning casually against the wall beside Merlin's chained form. The sickening crimson, essentially Merlin's  _life_ , was splattered on the floor, flecks of it were on the wall. Merlin's back was literally a mess of welts and cuts – there was no telling how many times he had been struck with the whip. The captain of the guard was not in the cell, nor was Arthur's father. For the moment, they were alone.

"Merlin?" the prince tried again, not able to see the boy's face because he was chained to the wall with his front facing away from the door. He was slumped over, leaning against the wall as best he could, shackles around both his wrists and his neck, keeping him to the wall, and  _if_  he had magic, the chains would be confining  _that_  as well. Doubts, fears, and wild emotions flew around haphazardly in the prince's mind but at the moment he didn't try to sort through them. Instead, he focused his attention on his manservant, bloodied and beaten. "Merlin…" he said softly, anger growing like a wildfire in his chest. How could his father have done this? No, Uther hadn't whipped Merlin himself, but he had ordered the captain to do his dirty work. So while the king's hands were literally free of Merlin's blood, he still had the boy's blood on his hands.

Rushing forward, Arthur reached his servant and tried to find a clear place to put his hand, finding no unmarked skin on the man's back. Wincing, Arthur gently touched Merlin's shoulder and his servant gritted his teeth, apparently just coming to consciousness, and looked with pain and fever glazed eyes at his master.

"Arthur?" His voice was husky, terrified, agonized.

"Merlin," said Arthur, disgusted at what his father's order had done to him, "I'm so sorry."

Merlin coughed weakly, cried out weakly as the motion rocked his weakened body, and muttered, "Me too. I… lied."

Arthur's eyes widened. Merlin was admitting that he had lied? About what? His magic? But that would mean that he  _did_  have magic! Arthur shook his head. This wasn't the time. "It's fine," he lied, not even sure what he was talking about. All he knew was that he  _had_  to get Merlin out of here, to Gaius, unchained from the wall. Merlin shouldn't be here, he didn't belong in a hellhole like this. Whether or not the idiot had magic, he _didn't_  deserve this. "Merlin, are you…" He stopped himself. It was obvious that Merlin was  _far_  from okay and if Arthur asked him it would be obvious that Arthur was at a loss, no idea what to do. He didn't want Merlin to realize how shaken up he was by all of this.

A choked noise burst from Merlin's lips. "Merlin?"

"I-it hurts."

Arthur felt his resolve to question Merlin himself – although through immensely less violent means – drain away at the pain in his servant's voice. Tears stung the back of his eyes as he watched the blood trickle in slow rivulets down his back from the cuts marring almost every inch of visible skin. Merlin gasped for air, trying to get a handle on the pain and Arthur closed his eyes, trying to get a handle on his emotions. "I know," he said softly, rubbing Merlin's shoulder comfortingly. He decided that he wasn't going to press Merlin for information while he was in this state. Whatever Morgana believed he had done,  _surely_  Merlin hadn't poisoned her. He would find out the truth later; sort all of this out between Merlin and Morgana  _after_  Merlin had been freed and was on his way to be healed. "I'm not going to let them hurt you anymore, Merlin," he said soothingly. Merlin didn't answer, slumping down into his chains. He had passed out again.

* * *

Arthur strode purposefully toward Morgana's chambers once more, livid. He had found Sir Leon and had told him and another knight, Sir Evan, that they were to guard the door to the dungeons and allow  _no one_  to enter. He knew that if the king ordered them to move, they'd have to, but the knights had more jurisdiction than the guards. Hopefully that held over the captain of the guards as well. He just needed to buy Merlin some time until he could talk some sense into Morgana and Uther. They  _couldn't_  go through with this. They just  _couldn't._

He knocked urgently on Morgana's door and she opened it, eyeing him in barely masked amusement. "So," she said with a half-smile that showed Arthur a whole other side to the girl he thought he knew. "What did Merlin tell you?"

Through gritted teeth, Arthur said, "I didn't ask him anything – Morgana, you wouldn't believe how brutal my father and the captain of the guards is being to him! They have literally stripped his back of nearly all its flesh." Morgana didn't look fazed at all, which only served to increase Arthur's anger. "Morgana – how could you have done this? You've betrayed Merlin!"

"No," she said coldly. "He betrayed  _me_  when he poisoned me."

Arthur regarded her coolly, no longer convinced by her façade. She was playing a dangerous game, that was for sure, but the prince was more convinced than ever that Morgana was hiding something big. He had seen the sadistic gleam in her eye at the news of Merlin's suffering. He had watched her smile as Merlin was dragged away. She was  _enjoying_  this – and the Morgana that he had known would have  _never_  acted this way. Even if Merlin had poisoned her… which he hadn't. Right?

"Morgana, you have to forget about the poison for a second! I don't know what happened, if it happened, or what! But what I do know is that Merlin has spent the last three hours being tortured and whipped almost non-stop and that he is going to  _die_  tomorrow – because of  _you_. Even if he did poison you, do you really think that revenge is going to get you what you want? It's not justice, Morgana, it's  _murder._ "

"Hm, funny, you didn't seem to care about that when you were going to kill your father for your mother's death," his father's ward said flippantly, like she was talking about the weather or what she was going to wear to a banquet. Arthur snarled – he didn't know how long Morgana had kept up this act but it seemed that she was losing grip on it faster than she could keep her cool. It was like a monster had been unleashed inside of her and was roaring to get out – and succeeding even though it was obvious that she was trying to control it. She was angrier than Arthur had ever seen her (and bloody  _hell_ , had he seen her angry!), but this wasn't a just anger, trying to help someone in need – this was an uncontrollable rage brought about by betrayal, hurt, and loss. She was right about one thing, though – Arthur understood that fury that she was talking about; he had been consumed by it when he thought that Uther had been responsible for his mother's death.

But… no one but Arthur, his father, and Merlin  _really_  knew what had occurred. Then how…?

Morgana either realized her mistake or decided that she sounded too callous and smiled sympathetically. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was rude."

"Morgana…how did you know? About what happened between my father and I?"

"I…"

"Morgana, what aren't you telling me?"

Morgana gave up her pretense, eyes brimming with tears as her face turned into a mask of pure hatred. "You have no idea," she snapped. "But I'm  _not_  going to help Merlin. He deserves every bit of pain he gets. And you're a fool if you are going to stand beside him and not me, who you have known all your life like a sister."

Arthur shook his head, mind reeling. "No," he said softly. "I don't think I  _do_  know you anymore, Morgana."

Morgana smirked. "Fine, Arthur. But Merlin is going to die. He will pay for poisoning me. And  _you_  will have to decide who you are going to stand with – me… or the man who tried to murder me. Your choice."

She slammed the door in his face. Arthur cursed, not able to comprehend all that had just happened. Morgana had had some kind of mental breakdown, it seemed – perhaps the stress and anger about what she thought had happened had caused her to snap. Whatever the reason for her outburst, Arthur felt like a part of him had been ripped out. Although they had always bickered, he and Morgana had always been close. To have that bond destroyed now, because of Morgana's insatiable thirst for revenge, hurt. And he still didn't know the whole story about Merlin. If he  _had_  poisoned Morgana? If he  _did_  have magic? If  _he_  was the one Arthur had been misjudging all this time?

Arthur shook his head and turned away, deciding that he needed to get back to Merlin  _now_  and hear his side of the story, no matter how hard it would be with Merlin's condition. He was being pulled in two opposite different directions and it was going to drive him crazy, if it hadn't already. He had just turned to head toward the dungeon when he saw the last two people he wanted to see at this moment in time walking hurriedly toward him.

"Leon. Evan. What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Merlin?"

"The king," said Leon, "ordered us aside. He's decided that he can't get Merlin to talk. So he has…" The knight hesitated.

"He has what?" Arthur snapped, trying to keep his head from spinning so crazily that he got sick. He felt like he was losing the battle.

"He decided to move up Merlin's execution," Evan finished for the grave Leon.

Arthur's mouth went dry and he could practically feel the blood draining from his face. "What? When?"

Leon winced. "Right now."


	5. Chapter 5

"What?" Arthur shouted, making both knights wince. Fear raced through him. How could this have happened? How had it ever come to this – Merlin beaten at the order of Arthur's own father, about to be executed; Morgana the one responsible and  _happy_  about it… and the possibility of Merlin with  _magic_? Nothing made sense anymore. The people Arthur thought he knew were showing their true colors and it scared him – truly, it did. And now his closest friend, accused of sorcery by a woman he thought he could trust with his life, about to be executed… No. That was  _not_  an option. "Where?"

"The courtyard, sire," Leon informed him with a dip of his head. "Since it's late, no one will be about and it will be done quietly. I don't think he wants to get the word out about Merlin's death because everyone knows how loyal he is to you, Arthur, and a lot of people like him."

"No," Arthur disagreed with the knight's theory, fire in his eyes. "He's just being a coward. He doesn't want to have to face me after what he's done. Thank you for telling me," the prince went on gravely. He dipped his head at Sirs Leon and Evan before running as fast as he could toward the courtyard, praying wildly that he wouldn't be too late to save Merlin.

Morgana had told him that he'd have to make a decision – Merlin or her – and Arthur was a bit surprised at how easy that choice had been. Morgana had made a mistake in trying to get Merlin tortured and killed for revenge. Poison or no poison, magic or no magic, Arthur simply _refused_  to believe that his best friend was an evil sorcerer. And he was  _not_  going to let his father kill his servant and friend when he could do something to stop it.

He was done flitting between what others said and wanted – this time, Arthur Pendragon was going to do what was right,  _damn_  the consequences.

* * *

Merlin was in a haze of pain, not sure if anything that he  _thought_  was happening  _was_  actually real. Maybe everything he thought he saw was a hallucination, spawning from the whip and the agony it had wrought on his body. Even though his torturer had stopped whipping him a while ago, every time he took a breath he could feel the whip hitting him all over again.

At one point, he thought he saw Arthur, maybe even said his name, but that couldn't have happened. After all, Arthur had been there when Merlin was arrested for sorcery. Why would Arthur come to see him? Through his pain, he wondered if maybe Arthur didn't believe the accusations, or didn't care. Merlin thought that Arthur wasn't quite ready to know yet, but what if he was? Maybe Arthur  _had_  come to see him. Merlin just didn't know.

One thing he  _did_  know was if he wasn't hallucinating right now, he was in  _big_  trouble. Uther, along with several guards, had stormed into his cell a little while ago. Uther had grabbed his hair, pulling his head back as far as the shackle around Merlin's neck would allow, and said something about dealing with the problem immediately, since he wasn't going to talk. Merlin tried to tell the king, once more, that he wasn't an evil sorcerer, but all that came out was a whimper and a few disjointed syllables. Then he was unchained from the wall and dragged out of the room.

He was pretty sure that this  _was_  happening, that it wasn't just one big hallucination, because the guards' hands on his upper arms and wrists felt pretty darn real and the pain shooting across his bloody back with every forced step was too intense to be a dream. Other than what he was feeling directly, the sights and sounds as he was marched out of the dungeons, through some empty corridors, and toward the courtyard were surreal. He felt almost disjointed from reality.

When they reached the courtyard, Merlin realized what 'reality' was. The yard was empty, only Merlin, Uther, and some guards –  _and_  the platform and noose that had apparently been constructed earlier in the day just for him. Fear gripped him. Uther was going to kill him now? But… but…

His mind whirred as he simply tried to breathe through his panic. His magic was no longer restrained. He was out in the open; he could do magic again! He could escape, and run –

Despair filled him again. No, he couldn't run. Sure, his magic might allow him to break free of the guards for a little while, but he was severely injured, his back a mess of welts and cuts and bloody stripes from the whip. He was weakened, feverish, and in more pain than he'd ever experienced in his young life. If he thought he would be able to escape from Camelot alive, he was a fool.

Merlin was in a daze of pain and terror as he was all but carried onto the platform, made to stand on it, and then held upright by the guards since he could barely stand on his own. A third guard came forward and slipped the noose around his neck, tightening it just enough – there was a little slack, but not much. He would die quickly, but not instantly. He would suffer first. He found he wasn't very afraid at the idea of suffering. The emotional pain, knowing he was about to die and would never see Arthur again, or Gaius, or Gwen, was almost as overwhelming as the physical torment. His throat tightened and he began to panic in earnest, even though the executioner hadn't pulled the lever yet.

 _No, please, I don't, I don't want to die…_  he thought.  _Arthur,_  his mind pleaded desperately as he heard the king begin to tell Merlin what a wicked person he was and why he was being hung for sorcery – as if Merlin hadn't heard this speech a hundred times, before every execution of one of his kind he was forced to watch. For Camelot's sake, for Arthur's…

And then, Uther fell quiet and the moonlit darkness of the courtyard was blacked out completely as a rough sack went over his head. Merlin's heart was pumping furiously, fear overwhelming him.  _This was it, but this couldn't be it. Merlin had so much more to do, his and Arthur's destiny had not been fulfilled… He_ couldn't _die here and now, alone save for Uther and some guards, hung in an empty courtyard in the dark of night… Arthur… Please…_

The rough fabric of the sack was suffocating him, the air in the bag becoming too hot and thick to breathe. He realized that it wasn't actually the cloth over his face that was restricting his breathing, or the slackened noose around his neck – it was his own fear and desperation. He had to break free. He couldn't, he couldn't do this, not now… Terror rushed through his weakened body and he almost toppled over held up only by the executioner.

Uther was still talking but his speech was coming to a close. "…and for your crimes, sorcerer, and your unwillingness to cooperate with your king, you will be hung by the neck until dead."

Merlin's breath came in strangled gasps. This was the end. His magic rose, ready to lash out and protect him…

"STOP!"

The voice was like that of an angel's, and if Merlin hadn't known Arthur for nearly three years now, he might have thought the speaker was one, too. At the moment, though, Merlin had _never_  been so happy to hear his master's voice. If he had been completely coherent, or even semi-coherent through the pain and blood-curdling fear, he might have noticed the higher pitch of the other man's voice and the way his voice shook.

He could hear yelling, maybe even cursing, from both father and son, from where he stood – or rather leaned heavily on the guards – but couldn't make out much of what was being said. His mind was fuzzy, his vision fluctuating between blurriness and nothing at all. Not that there was much to see, anyway, with the sack over his head. He thought distractedly that he would rather see the back of his eyelids than the coarse fabric of the execution hood.

Arthur shouted something and Uther responded with such anger that Merlin was chilled to the bone with fear. And then – "Do it."

Merlin knew what he was talking about in an instant and his breath hitched.  _No no no no no…_

"NO!"

Arthur's horrified scream echoed through the courtyard, through the castle, and rushed around Merlin's head, stunning the boy with its sincerity.

Arthur was begging now, his tone, although the words didn't make sense to Merlin's ears, pleading desperate.

A soft, "Please, Father," and suddenly the ground disappeared from under Merlin's feet and the rope dug into Merlin's neck as he fell. He choked, coughing, breathless, trying to move, to pull himself up, but his limbs were useless. His throat burned from the rope, his lungs gasping for air that simply wasn't there. Spots danced eerily in front of the warlock's eyes, decorating the interior of the bag with splotches of white and crimson that Merlin thought disjointedly were quite pretty.

His whole body hurt, his neck and his chest and his back, and he knew this was it, he was dying and nothing anyone did could stop it…

His eyes fluttered closed, the dots still prancing, and his struggles began to wane. Darkness consumed him, and there was silence.

* * *

When he woke up, he was confused.

First of all, he didn't understand  _how_  he was waking up because he was pretty sure he had just been hung.

Secondly,  _how_  was he in Gaius's chambers, lying on his stomach, his wounds wrapped and the pain slightly dimmed?

Finally,  _what the hell_  was Arthur doing slumped in Gaius's favorite chair, head lolling to one side, mouth slightly ajar, strange rumbling noises not unlike the feral snarl of a wild boar emanating from him? And Arthur said he didn't snore…

Merlin turned the strange thought away and shifted slightly, his battered back screaming in pain. He tried to move his head but quickly realized that his neck was a bruised, raw mess and that changing its position was just about as painful as his back. His voice was hoarse and his throat dry as he croaked as loudly as he could, which wasn't very loud at all, "Arthur."

Despite the softness of his tone, Arthur woke immediately, his blue eyes snapping open and locking onto his servant. Instantly the prince's face split into a relieved smile and he looked so relaxed now that if it hadn't been for the welts on his back and bruises on his neck, he would have sworn the past day had been a terrible dream. Merlin was beyond confused, his mind simply trying to wrap itself around what had happened and failing miserably. So, he did the next best thing – he asked.

"Wha… Wha' happened?"

Arthur's smile faltered slightly and his eyebrows gave a little frown as they drew together above the bridge of his nose. "What do you remember?"

Merlin hated it when people answered a question with another question – this kind of philosophical response was like a riddle, and the Great Dragon had completely exhausted Merlin's tolerance of riddles. Still, he strained his memory, his head pounding, and tried to differentiate between reality and pain-induced fantasy. He wasn't sure he could. "I…" he said, then broke off coughing. Arthur jumped up like he'd been slapped, grabbed a cup of something – water, Merlin found out as it was pressed to his lips by an oddly helpful prince – and allowed his servant to drink a few sips. "Thanks," Merlin rasped, his throat a bit less painful when he spoke. He supposed hanging from a noose would do that to a person.

Arthur shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Well?" he prompted.

"I… the k-king…" Merlin shuddered and the shivers jerked the lacerations on his back painfully. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a breath through them, waiting out the worst of the twinge until he could speak again. "H-he ordered… whip… execution…" His panic made his voice hitch and he began to hyperventilate. He'd lived his worst nightmare, being executed for his magic, but somehow he'd managed to survive it and was here talking to Arthur about it. The guilt on the prince's face was tangible.

"You don't have to answer," the prince said quickly, averting his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Merlin said softly, trying not to think about his ordeal. "But I don't understand. How am I… still alive?"

Arthur flushed. "I didn't know what was going on, I  _still_  don't know much of anything."

"Nothing's changed there, then," Merlin quipped weakly, and Arthur couldn't help but smile. Leave it to Merlin to put a bit of humor into the most desperate of situations.

"Shut up," Arthur said automatically, a wan grin coming and going, before he went on. He told Merlin everything that had happened since the servant had been dragged from the throne room – the confrontations with Morgana, the accusations, the uncertainty. When he got to the part where Merlin was being executed, his voice was low and dark. "I got there right as father was about to hang – to do it," he amended, not looking in Merlin's eyes. "I tried to get him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He pulled the lever and you—" He broke off, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of his voice. He cleared his throat.

"I stopped trying to reason with him. I yelled, cursed, screamed at my father, ordered him to stop the madness, told him that it was all a mistake and that if he didn't let you down, I'd never forgive him… ever." He looked royally embarrassed at this point and refused to meet his servant's eyes. "Then you stopped struggling and I knew you didn't have much longer, so I did the only thing I could… I threw my dagger and it sliced through the rope and you fell to the ground. Father was… he was  _furious_. He was going to run you through, and at this point I didn't even know if you were even still alive." His voice shook.

He chuckled softly. "I must have woken up the whole castle with my protests," he said, "and to my surprise, a crowd began to gather, surrounding the gallows. It was full of people, your friends, those who abhorred the way you'd been treated by my father. Guinevere, Gaius, many of the knights, and bunch of villagers and servants I don't know." He shook his head.

"When my father saw how much of a stir your death would cause, and how even some knights of Camelot and the court physician were standing up for you, he relented. Even I'm surprised at the mass of people that wanted to stand up for you – seems you've made quite an impression on the citizens of Camelot, Merlin." His words were teasing but his tone was proud. He decided to talk to Morgana again, one more time, just to be safe – he didn't want some sort of uprising on your account, I guess – and for some reason, she changed her story. Said she didn't see right, that she was confused. A headache made her see things or something. I dunno if she changed or had another motive or…"

"No," Merlin said, shaking his head, wincing, and remembering that he shouldn't do that. "She knows you know how much she hates me and that you suspect her. She said too much, revealed too much. She's playing it safe, trying to give you some time to forget her outburst, trying to mellow everything out again." He paused. "She's just covering her tracks."

Arthur sighed. "I don't know all that's going on, but I do see that not all is as I thought. I'm not sure who I can trust anymore."

Merlin looked at his master seriously, two sets of blue eyes locked on one another. "You can trust me," he said. "I swear."

And Arthur knew it was true. Magic or no magic, whatever the story, whatever was going on, he  _knew_  without a doubt that it was true. He'd find out more later, when Merlin felt more like talking, but for now Arthur contented himself with the knowledge that no matter the twists of fate ahead that there was at least  _one_  person he could always count on. And he swore to himself and to his servant that the opposite would always be true – no matter what, Merlin would be able to count on Arthur.


End file.
